ALBUM REVIEW: ‘Lamplight’ by Lamplight

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WRITTEN BY: Sydney Martin

Folk musician Lamplight, known as Ian Hatcher-Williams, had his most recent project released March 8th, followed by a live debut of the album on March 10th at Ortlieb’s in Philadelphia. Produced by
Kevin Copeland, the deep dive Hatcher-Williams took into the past to make Lamplight come to
life is evident within the turbulence of emotions across this unique folk album, sounds similar
within Bon Iver and other times Peach Pit, displaying an admirable versatility across all
compositions. Hatcher-Williams’ honest and nostalgic reflections on the past are told across
these songs, focused around his Virginian roots that both shaped and troubled him. Upon the
insight provided by Hatcher’s journey, Lamplight narrates his journey from growing up in Virginia
to moving to New York, only to find peace again with his wife in Virginia, reconnecting with his
roots.

Of the nine songs on the album, each simple title demands your attention, the lyrical content
foretold to be of importance, connotations swinging from playful to serious. Poetic without the
obscurity of traditional folk songs, entrancing accounts of the past free of clique,
Hatcher-Williams musical gift and artistic soul is captured across this self-exploratory album,
without sacrificing one for another.

“Play”’s gentle piano and progressive guitars start off the album, flowing instrumentals
reminiscent of the frequent mentions of nature. A drunken guitar is introduced, rich violins
joining in as play veers close to chaos. Reeling the album back to a poised demeanor, step-like,
slow applause, vocals high and melodic as Bon Iver’s, “Confrontation” begins cautiously,
progressing to a freer composition. Blissful rather than disheveled, a chorus of strumming
instruments unite–deeming the topic of confrontation as healing rather than anxiety inducing.
The chemistry between producer Copeland and Hatcher-Williams is undeniable; vocals paired
beautifully with an election of instrumentals, juxtaposition of the two timed thoughtfully, paced in
a way that brings breath to each song–rhythm beyond music, patterns following the troughs and
highs of life. Guitar feedback shimmers and diffuses into the trembling instrumentals of
“Stillness”, guitar notes holding a vaporous and wobbly quality. Violins and drums contradict the
lyrics “only stillness, steady” as yearning vocals remain between a scream and a
whisper restricted caution of the bass sound as screeching guitar riffs yearn but never fully
plateau, meticulously yielding resonance of such an unreachable itch.

Narrative and lyrically simplistic, “Lamplight” proceeds, paced by the subtle progression of the
composition. Once again, instrumentals move in the manner of the lyrics, soft sounds fluctuating
at high notes–flames flickering, nostalgia and deja vu embedded within the growing electricity of
the music. Free of possession or desire, “Lamplight” is a refreshing love song, containing
admiration and observation without self-serving intent; Wholesomely prepping listeners for the
vulnerable “Call Your Mom”. Here, downhearted soft lyrics emerge to the honest revelation of neglecting familial ties. Seen across this album is the adoption of an optimism following emotional lows, Hatcher-Williams approaching short-comings as an opportunity for growth. Perhaps alleviated of this guilt, or
hoping the song itself will provide relief, lyrical repetition is used to fully realize the truth.

In “House Rules” lyrics of a somber nature are relieved of such heaviness by the chosen tone;
rubber-like vocals and eclectic chiming of instrumentals frames a dysfunctional but enjoyed– upbringing, wind chimes, dishes, water, distant cars. “Life will move on and so will you”-” don’t’ keep guns inside the house” is delivered matter-of-factly, paired with free reigning instrumentals allowing the tone to remain generally light throughout. A chaotic jumble of string instruments lead to “Soft Blue” holding a similar air as “Play” but more tired, as if aged, vocals clearer than earlier songs in the album. At 6:41 seconds, “Empathy” stands as the longest song on the album, peppy drums and lyrics rise to a liberated frequency, fast bells flapping like love-sick butterflies. This dreamy composition becomes further entrancing as the composition changes abruptly, as if the music was lowered, distanced, and simplified, all while Hatcher-Williams vocals are closer than ever before. Initially butterflies resume, stringed instruments sounding like electronic feedback, drums dispersing, whether a growth in anxiety or excitement empathy fades into the distance, a dreamy hum with remnants of the instruments taking place before a final riff of guitars, a turbulent journey ending in guitar feedback. Organic acoustic guitar finally touches upon the topic of home, the last composition simplistic with slow stepping lyrics, reaching violins holding great sincerity–wrapping Hatcher-Williams’ masterful Lamplight in a velvet bow; an album for those appreciative of soft rock infused folk, and emotion so audible they require no resolution.